


the one where eren jaeger is a psychic (but jean doesn't believe him)

by orphan_account



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fortune Telling, Hipster Boys, Insomnia, Multi, Out of Character, Psychic, Skepticism, a little bit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-01
Updated: 2013-08-07
Packaged: 2017-12-22 02:01:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/907560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the tenth time since June that Eren has called at strange hours, insisting upon his strange prophetic dreams and the things that go bump in the night. Jean says he should make a living out of it, but Eren argues that things like these break when abused by the general public.</p>
<p>“What do you want you fucking asshat?”</p>
<p>“You’re going to have a boyfriend by the end of October,” is the first thing out of his mouth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. and the midnight psychic strikes again

**Author's Note:**

> I _hope_ to god I finish this, but really I have no idea. This came to me out of nowhere, and I hope you all like it???? I don't know....I'm still confused about what the main pairing is, so bear with me.....and I kinda made Eren different, cause y'know no titans ruining his life so he's kind of a weird softie and i don't know if i like it.

It’s the morning of September 1st— or really one minute after midnight —and Jean can’t ignore the screeching phone sitting on the kitchen counter.

If it isn’t Eren, then he doesn’t know whom else it could fucking be. This is the tenth time since June that Eren has called at strange hours, insisting upon his strange prophetic dreams and the things that go bump in the night. Jean says he should make a living out of it, but Eren argues that things like these break when abused by the general public.

“What do you want you fucking asshat?”

“You’re going to have a boyfriend by the end of October,” is the first thing out of his mouth, and Jean just sort of leans against the counter. There’s a puddle that he accidentally sets the palm of his hand in, and blandly remembers spilling his mug of water for tea earlier that day. Eren grumbles something on the other line, and then squeaks when Jean puts the phone on speaker and lets it clatter to the counter (carefully evading the puddle).

“Don’t you walk away from me. This is serious. It was really strong this time, and I’m sure of it.”

“The last time you called it was to tell me that I’d slip in a puddle walking to work if I wore my boots instead of Oxfords, do you really think I’m going to take this one seriously?”

“Now that was in the beginning, Jean, don’t persecute me for amateur readings. Yesterday I told Armin that if he took the elevator it would get stuck, and he’d be late for his meeting, and guess what? I was right!”

“How could I know? You could be lying to me right now.”

“I wouldn’t do that!”

Jean snorts and opens the refrigerator out of habit, looking over the bottle of ketchup and half empty gallon of milk. _I should really go grocery shopping._ Eren yammers on about something else he predicted with Mikasa, but it’s lost on deaf ears.

“Well, what does he look like? If I fall in love with a guy by the end of October, and he matches your looks, maybe then I’ll believe you. But right now I really don’t fucking care.”

“I can’t tell you! The power of suggestion will just make you gravitate towards men who fit the description, it’s all in the handbook of ‘ _How Not to Be Psychic’_."

“At this point I’m doubting that’s a real thing.”

“Bingo you loser, it’s not real, I made it up for humorous purposes. And by the way, if you do fall in love by the end of October you’re gonna owe me something.”

“Yeah, and what’s that?”

Eren sighs into the phone, and then there’s some papers shuffling in the background. “I don’t know, buy me something. Are we really going to make a bet? You should believe me like all small children do.”

“And who said I’m a small child?”

“Mikasa, if you’re really wondering,” he sounds bored, or possibly tired because it’s _fucking midnight Jesus Christ._ “Well, I’m going back to bed, and you can contemplate it as much as you like. Just know that I’m not vying for your silly attention, no ones needs it from you.”

“Goodnight, Jaeger.”

Eren hangs up, and Jean slouches against the sink. A siren wails down in the street and cars honk. New York never sleeps, and sometimes it makes Jean unable to rest as well. The sleeping tablets are tucked away in the far corner of the medicine cabinet, and Jean just sort of shuffles past them every time he opens it. It’s not like he _needs_ them, it’s just a little restlessness after moving to the city. He’ll get used to the light and the sound soon enough (far different than the tiny town he grew up in).

Jean yawns and flops himself back down on the couch, staring into the screen of his phone that practically yells at him to go to bed.

He doesn’t fall asleep till three, and he won’t admit that he was awake when Eren called him.

—

The next morning is a chorus of loud clanging, and someone attempting to rearrange his pot and pan cupboard (what the ever living _fuck_?!). Jean is awake in moments, and nearly falls off the couch in a sad attempt to save himself from the robber that’s probably intending to kill him.

But instead it’s just Sasha and Connie, arguing over which pan to use to fry the eggs, and Sasha won’t let him touch the loaf of Italian bread she’s bought.

“What the fuck are you doing in my house?”

Connie turns around, smiling with a lump of victory bread now stuffed into his face. “Making you breakfast. Eren said it’d be good for you.”

“Didn’t I tell you not to listen to Eren?”

“Don’t be so dramatic, Jean,” Sasha cracks one of the eggs and drops it into the pan. “How do you like your eggs?”

“Scrambled.”

“Gotchya,” she drops another one in, and hums as she reaches for the ground pepper, Connie dancing around the island with the newspaper and bread hunk in hand.

“Just get married already, would you?” Jean stumbles past them and into the hall where he tries to find the bathroom, but this apartment is still too big and he always mixes it up with the linen closet.

“Did Eren call you last night?” Connie shouts over the sizzling of a pan and a running faucet.

“Yeah,” Jean finally finds the bathroom and goes to work on brushing his teeth. “Why?”

“He called us at like three insisting we make breakfast for you. He gave us your spare key this morning to get in.” 

“He— _what?!”_ Jean nearly chokes on the foam in his mouth, and sputters just enough so that he has to spit into the sink. 

“Your eggs are ready!” Sasha singsongs and Jean quick rinses out his mouth and heads back to the kitchen. There isn’t very much of a mess, and Jean has to admit they’re quite efficient. There’s toast too, and Sasha sets down a small bottle of orange juice.

“Thanks guys,” he’s a little speechless, still wondering why on earth anyone would do something so stupid for a guy like him. He doesn’t have the cooking talents of Sasha or the musical skill of Connie (that grunge band isn’t Jean’s taste, but it has character). “Did Eren really put you up to this?” 

“Yes, and the fact that Sasha goes rabid at the mention of ‘cooking.’” 

She’s nibbling on the load of bread now, watching Jean slowly consume his plate of eggs and sip at the orange juice.

“Did he tell you what he told me when he called?” 

“No,” Sasha shakes her head and starts to doze off where she’s seated herself on the counter. “He just said you needed some food and convincing.” 

Connie flicks her on the forehead and she jolts back awake. 

Connie jabs a finger at her, “She wanted to menu plan at three in the morning, and I let her do it because there’s not stopping it, but she didn’t get back to bed until eight.” 

It’s like Jean can hear Eren ranting in the back of his head, wearing that stupid scarf that him and Mikasa share with his fake glasses pushed all the way up (even though they’re too big and slip down his face half the time). _I’m right, don’t you dare laugh at me! You needed some cheering up, and you know that I burn everything I touch, and I’ve been trying to work on my anger issues, so I avoid things I’m bad at._

Jean almost groans out loud. 

“Really, thanks for doing this. I have a meeting with some office friends at one, so you don’t have to stick around or anything—.” 

Sasha is already starting for the door, but Connie catches her by the back of her shirt. “You’re welcome. Anytime. Oh! Here’s your spare key. You could give it back to Eren I suppose.” 

As they’re leaving Jean tries to remember why he gave it to Eren in the first place, and then remembers when he was moving in and needed someone to be able to get in and meet the movers because he had a family emergency. 

Eren’s prophetic visions probably state that today will end badly, and to stay indoors as you are water logged on your way to the meeting.

—

Jean is starting to get this sneaking suspicion that Eren may not be entirely fake; because there’s a guy ordering a latte up front that has a _sweet ass_.

“Hey. Yoo-hoo. Jean can you help me out here, I’m not that great with numbers, and you are entirely aware of this fact.” 

“Uh, yeah. Whoa, sorry Reiner. I got— distracted. Go on,” Jean blinks a few times before attempting to tune back in to what Reiner is saying, something about separate documents and how the new system should be working and wow _are you even listening Kirstein?_

“Jesus, I am _really_ out of it today.”

“Tell me about it. And _stop_ staring in that corner back there, I don’t care who is hotter than the sun or anything less than that, I need to get this done so I can go, and you can too.” 

“Uh-huh,” Jean nods, but out of his peripheral vision he keeps the slender figured boy in sight. “If I don’t catch all of this, I’ll just ask Bert.” 

“Double crosser.” 

The meeting goes on smoothly for another ten minutes, and then Reiner books it back into the rain to meet Bertolt for lunch. Jean orders another coffee and watches the people come and go. The slender boy leaves, and Jean can’t help but admire his looks, and just as he exits _Eren_ walks in. 

“I get it now. You just really want to fuck me and that’s why you won’t go find your own friends, is that it? I know my charms are irresistible, but one day you just gotta find someone—.”

“Connie said you enjoyed your breakfast,” Eren sits down with a _thunk_ and pulls his laptop from his bag. The glasses slip down his nose, and Jean gets the strong urge to just _push_ them back up. “And don’t be mad at me, I had a feeling you’d be even pissier at your meeting if you didn’t get something decent to eat, and that would make Reiner sour as well. There would be a tiff between him and Bertolt, and I wouldn’t want that for someone, you know? It seemed logical to get you something decent to eat.”

“Are you absolutely insane? Where do you learn these tricks anyways? I mean, do they teach you how to be ‘ _World’s Worst Psychic’_ or does it just occur to you one day?”

Eren opens his mouth to protest, and then opens up his laptop. The words are lost, and Jean watches as he attempts to type something in past the too-long sleeves of his sweatshirt. Jean’s fingers twitch, and he wants to roll the sleeves up like a mother would with a small child involved with paints or other much messier substances.

“Krista and Ymir are having a party for their engagement. You should go. They have a lot of good friends that we don’t know, and I think you’ll find him there. I mean it’s already a short amount of time to fall in love by October, so you _must_ meet him soon,” Jean can see Facebook reflected in the lenses of the glasses, scrolling the newsfeed which is usually just filled with Sasha’s Pinterest posts of cupcakes and loaves of bread.

“Yeah. And?”

“I told you, you should go. Or at least, _we_ should go. They’re our friends, and if you think about it, it’s a bit depressing to think that all our friends are getting married and we’re sitting here like bumps on a log. Go meet the man, Kirstein.”

“I thought you were going to marry Mikasa, Jaeger.”

Eren gives him a pointed look. “I was _seven,_ Jean. Back then Armin was in love with Lindsey Lohan, and I’m going to tell you, that wasn’t a pretty sight.”

Jean admits to himself that it _was_ pretty funny.

“So what does my mystery man look like?” Jean can’t help but indulge him, and this supposed psychic must at least know what the guy looks like. “Don’t tell me the same bullshit you said earlier, it won’t change anything.”

“Why would I tell you? It would ruin all the fun, anyways. It’s more for my sake to know what he looks like than yours. In the end, it doesn’t really matter because you’ll be in love and won’t even care at that point. But really, you’ll probably have to buy me something because I won.” Eren is a horrible typist, and having an office job Jean at least can use both hands and at least three fingers on each. Eren types with his two pointer fingers and it makes Jean want to _scream_ at the pace he goes.

“What’s the first letter of his first name then?”

“I don’t know that!”

“And the case is cracked! The myth has been busted, _you are a fraud!_ ”

“No I’m not! It’s not like it just types out a sheet with information on it that I can read off to you, it’s more like this _feeling_ that I can’t really explain.”

“Exactly. It’s like déjà vu, it doesn’t exist.” Jean watches as another male patron walks in. He’s wearing a scarf and has on the _tightest_ pair of jeans Jean has ever seen in his life, and he’s what Reiner would call a hipster doofus. The shirt is low cut and the Doc Martens look like they’re part of the jeans. His face is smattered with freckles, and dark hair is parted just the right way and _wow he is pretty fucking attractive._

Eren smiles behind his glasses.

“If you say something, I will strangle you before you can even get out one vowel from those underdeveloped vocal chords.”

“I’m not _technically_ saying anything, but making an observation, your face just lit up like a goddamn Christmas tree. Maybe if you try to hide it better next time?”

“Shut up, hipster brat.”

Mystery man orders and seats himself in one of the corners. He pulls a laptop from the book bag he has and sets to work on typing. _And he can type well too; oh sweet Jesus hallelujah today is a fine day._

“Do you believe me now?”

“Why? This doesn’t prove anything. An attractive young man just walked into a coffee shop, that doesn’t mean I’m his destined soul mate and it _definitely_ doesn’t make you a psychic.”

“You’re disappointing me, Jean, I thought you had more faith.”

“If I got a dollar each time you tried to convince me you were a psychic, I would be a millionaire and living a million years away from here in a place where the sun actually shines,” Jean watches Eren lean back in his seat, typing with his right hand now, and not bothering to go any faster than a snail’s pace. The glasses are almost ten miles from where they should be, and Jean takes the opportunity to push them up with a forefinger.

Eren looks startled.

“What?”

“N-nothing, you just kinda freaked me out.”

_That_ much is noticeable.

Mystery man gets his coffee, and Jean tries to imagine what this guy is like. Is he sweet, one of those nice guys? Or maybe he's a super snob, and that's why he dresses so stupidly... Jean hates it, that style of clothes, but it's like he knows too many people who dress that way and it seems unfair.

"Yo, are you drooling, or is it your brain leaking out of your mouth?"

"Ha ha, so very clever I see," Jean looks back at Eren, and he is delightfully unamused. His hair is a rumpled mess, and the sweatshirt looks entirely too big on him (hence the oversized arms). The fake glasses are drooping again, and Jean's fingers twitch. "Why do you wear those? It's not like they fit."

"Armin gave them to me for a birthday present, they mean more than you think."

"Oh, I get it now. Armin's too stupid to understand how big your face is, so he gets you a pair that wouldn't even fit Bertolt. You have wonderful friends, are you aware of that?" Mystery man sips at his coffee and types with one hand. Jean likes the way he looks in deep concentration, and yet this kid looks snobbier than Ymir on her bad days. Maybe it's just the clothes.

"Have you been sleeping? Cause I'm getting a bad vibe that you'll be really hazy when you take a cab home and accidentally tell them my address. If you do that, just know that the spare key is lodged in a space above the threshold."

"I'm not that unbelieveably stupid. I know _you_ are, but that doesn't mean you can press it on me."

"I'm a psychic, remember?" Eren looks like he's trying to suppress a smile. "How about this? I get his number for you, and you accidentally take that cab back to my place. I'll knock you out with some drugs so you don't sleepwalk all the way to Connie and Sasha's like you did that one time."

Jean goes to protest, but it's a lost cause now because Eren is smiling at him and _wow you fucking idiot how do you do this._

Jean takes the cab home and tries not to strangle himself with the nozzle on the sink, because frankly an Eren being hospitable is just too much for one's arteries to take.


	2. if fate were human

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm more sure now how this will turn out, but my chapters keep shrinking and I'm sorry ;-;

 

_Sea Lion//Sage Francis_

Eren’s apartment is the tiniest thing Jean has ever seen, and that’s putting it nicely. Armin spends too much money on buying Eren books, and they’re stacked in hazardous piles around the living room. He has a desk squeezed into the corner and a worn out old loveseat that’s covered in cat hair. Eren has this monstrous cat named Tamarind, but Jean likes to call the thing Titan. Right now it’s probably burrowed away in Eren’s room.

When Eren gets back, he slaps a napkin into Jean’s palm and heads straight for the kitchen, pulling out a glass of water and two tablets that Jean refuses to take.

“I don’t need it. I’ll fall asleep on my own.”

He wonders for a moment why he’s even here, but then sees the look on Eren’s face. He’s trying too hard to be the helpful friend, and the concern is kind of making Jean feel itchy.

He takes the pills anyway.

Jean passes out on Eren’s loveseat, legs too long so they hang over the sides, and when he wakes eight hours later, it’s dark and Eren is on his computer at the desk.

“Goddamn,” Jean sits up and cracks his back, watching Eren attempt to type again and sip at his mug of tea. He looks tired, and Jean wonders if he stayed awake for him.

_Now that’s really stupid._

“It’s only ten, and I probably fucked up your sleep schedule,” Eren sort of shrugs. “We could do something. It’s a Saturday night and we’re healthy twenty year old men.”

“You look exhausted. The only person I know that actually sleeps at ten at night is my grandma.”

Eren glares at him over the lip of his mug.

Jean flops onto the floor and lies on his stomach, staring at Eren through lidded eyes, and the shorter just scoffs in his seat. Jean can feel the napkin still crumpled in his hand, and wonders if the ink has started to run or worn off onto his palm. _Then he’d be screwed._

“Is this what you do 24/7?”

“Yup.”

“This is boring, Eren. Why am I friends with you again?”

“I just gave you the best sleep of your life, you should be thanking me,” Eren turns to look at Jean, a bit pitiful in his hand me down clothes that are ratty and don’t seem to fit. “We _could_ do something. I think Mikasa is just getting off work, we could go meet her and Armin—.”

“If you’re suggesting a double date, I’ll pass,” it comes out of Jean’s mouth before he can even think. _Ouch._

“I’ll have to tell Armin you turned him down then.”

“Fuck off, Jaeger.”

Eren shuts the laptop and drains the last of his tea. “Last chance then. You could call mystery man— _actually_ his name is Marco, I caught it. But you could call him or something maybe he’s a party animal, he looked like he could be a drinker.”

“Are you _trying_ to piss me off? And no, he actually looked more like one of those idiots that stays at home and drinks tea and— _oh._ ”

Eren frowns.

“Well, now what?” there’s sudden pressure on Jean’s back, and Titan must be prodding around now that he’s decided it’s safe. The paws climb over his back, and then he leaps over to where Eren is sitting. The big fluffy, black and white cat nudges at Eren’s ankles, but he ignores him.

“Do you want to get wasted, or what?” Eren gets up, and the desk chair creaks. He cracks his back and picks up Titan, who squirms in his grasp and leaps away anyways. Eren goes into the kitchen and shuffles around in the refrigerator, overhead light spilling into the dark living room.

Jean follows him, and when he gets in there, it’s like his heart shatters into a million pieces. Eren’s glasses are perched right on the tip of his nose, and the sweatshirt’s sleeves consume his hands. His jeans look too big as well, and Jean’s not sure if he’s feeling pity or sympathy.

“I should get you some new clothes,” Jean blurts, and afterward he thinks about how absurd it sounded.

“I can buy some myself, thanks.”

“Then why don’t you?”

“I’m a starving artist, there’s a point to this.”

“You work fucking retail and sit and whine about how you could do something meaningful with your life, and you never do. At least get some new clothes that actually fit, for god’s sake. If you’re that broke, I’ll buy you—.”

“Jesus Christ Jean, stop pitying me, I can do things myself—,” he tries to squirm past Jean, but he’s got him stuck. “You insult me, and don’t believe me, and we’re friends but can’t you just have a little faith? If I needed help I would get some, and if I did it would be from Mikasa or Armin. No offense.”

Jean rocks back on his heels and looks at Eren. He looks so pathetic, and yet every day he insists he’s _just fine, I’m getting by don’t you dare worry about me Kirstein you moron._

“Well now I want to get drunk,” Jean exclaims, and feels like absolute shit as he starts to put his shoes back on and Eren insists he give him a piggyback ride out into the rain.

—

In reality, Jean doesn’t get drunk. He sits outside with a cigarette in his mouth trying to avoid the drizzle of rain that’s leftover from that afternoon. Eren stays inside with Bertolt and Reiner (later on Annie makes an appearance, and then Sasha as well), having a better time than Jean could hope for.

He contemplates just dropping in to tell Eren he’s ditching and take a cab home. He won’t sleep for another twelve hours, but he stinks of cigarettes and his eyes droop as if they’re tired. All in all, the first day of September in this shitty ass year has been an interesting one, and just as Jean is about to head back inside he knocks into someone that trips and lands in a puddle.

Feeling horrible (and still stinking of cigarettes, Jean just hopes this guy isn’t disgusted) he reaches out a hand to help them up, and then Jean is face to face with fucking _Marco._

“Oh- _uh_ hi.”

“Um…” he looks like he’s searching through faces, and doesn’t find one, which leaves Jean thoroughly disappointed (it’s irrational, he knows that). “Sorry, who are you?”

Jean explains the predicament, and by the end of the story Marco is laughing, and then he offers to buy Jean a drink.

“No thanks, I was just heading home anyways.”

“Why? I mean, it’s still really early, you should just stay for a little bit,” Marco grabs for Jean’s hand to pull him into the club, but Jean draws away.

“Sorry for being a horrible buzz kill, but I just really don’t feel like being out tonight,” Jean puts his hands in his jacket pockets. “I got friends in there, but—.”

“Then _come on_ ,” Marco holds the door open and _fuck he’s holding my hand when did I turn into a blushing virgin fuck me up the ass._ “You can introduce me, or I can buy you that drink.”

Funny thing, Jean does both. Bertolt and Reiner though are to the point where they’ve started drinking a little too much, and when it gets that bad it usually ends in a lot of groping and they have to either shove them in a dark corner or call a cab and shove them in. Eren and Marco already know each other, which irks Jean in a weird way that he can’t explain. Annie is getting tipsy, but she has a good way of hiding it, and it ends in a weird half hug that Eren has to pull Annie out of before she stumbles away.

Last Jean heard Sasha had to go home because she almost got kicked out for mooching olives out of people’s martinis. This…well it doesn’t seem that out of character for her at least.

It’s a nice night.

It’s when Eren says goodnight and goes to call a cab that Jean feels an unfamiliar twinge in his heart. It’s that Jean knows he’ll go home and sleep and then wake up in the morning and have a cup of a coffee for breakfast and then work in an unfulfilling job the whole day. It’s that Jean knows he still feels guilty for his mother’s death, but no one can really help him.

Jean’s mood is a bit ruined after that, and when Marco asks him if he wants to come home with him (a little tipsy) he can’t help but say _yeah, of course._

There’s a metallic taste in the back of Jean’s throat when they get in the cab, and Marco snuggles up to him. He noses Jean’s neck, and somehow his scent is _wrong_. And it’s the impeccably cleaned apartment that doesn’t sit right (almost as empty as Jean’s own) in his stomach, and they fall onto the couch together in a tangle of limbs.

“You ever get this feeling that someone you meet is going to change your life?” Marco whispers into Jean’s chest, knees knocking into shins as he shifts so he can look up at Jean. “Have you ever looked at someone and thought ‘ _I won’t be the same after this’?”_

“I don’t think so,” Jean whispers, and Marco’s eyes twinkle in the dark of the apartment. “Did Eren ever tell you why I wanted your number?”

“Eren said fate was on our side,” Marco giggles and Jean’s heart melts. “I’ve only known you for two hours and you give me this _feeling_. You’ll change me, or my life. Or both.”

“I think you’re drunk.”

“Maybe a little bit,” Marco leans up and kisses the tip of Jean’s nose. “Let me kiss you.”

Jean’s hands are pinned at his sides and they shake when Marco grabs one of them. Marco heaves himself up so that he’s straddling Jean’s hips, directing Jean’s hand up to feel for his heart.

“Do you feel how fast it’s beating? My heart’s going crazy right now.” Marco leans down and presses his lips to the side of Jean’s face. “Touch me. _Please._ ”

Jean shivers, but when he starts to move his free hand guilt crackles in his throat. “You’ve been drinking.”

“Not that much,” Marco scoffs. “I’m fine with it, Jean, let’s just kiss for a little bit—.”

“I’m sorry I have to go,” Jean slides out from underneath him and lands on the carpet with a muted thud. Marco stares, and then just flops down on his stomach.

“That’s fine,” Marco yawns and offers a cheek. Jean kisses it. “We should hang out again, maybe when I’m a little more sober.”

“Yeah,” Jean clears his throat and stands up to leave. When he hears Marco’s breathing even out, he knows it’s time to go home.

It’s not longer raining, and when Jean gets back to his apartment he’s more wide-awake than when he’d intended the leave the club the first time. He turns every light on in the apartment and then sits in the middle of the living room with his phone in hand.

He debates whether or not he should call Eren.

When it vibrates in Jean’s hands he nearly throws it across the room. Eren has beat him to it, and when Jean answers he gets an earful about how Eren knew that he’d think to call around 1:30, so he stayed up to wait.

“Wait, you almost got laid and completely walked out on him? _Smooth_ one Kirstein.”

“Shut up, he was drunk anyways. I didn’t want to do that, I’ve heard the stories. In that moment I felt like my morals were being tested. Plus— I’ve only known him for a few hours, doesn’t that seem a little shallow?”

Eren sighs. “Yeah, I suppose. You’re wide-awake, aren’t you? I guess I shouldn’t have put you to sleep then, now your sleep schedule is fucked.”

“It’s fine. I’ll get back in my old rut.”

“You should take the pills they give you, then you’d be able to function and concentrate properly.”

“I already told you, this is temporary. I’m just getting used to a new apartment and a big city. It might take a little bit, but that doesn’t mean I should take a bunch of drugs to knock me out.”

“It means you should take them until you can fall asleep on your own.”

“Eren, did you really think I’d call you, or did you chance this just so you could say you’re being psychic again?”

Something crackles in the background (cellophane?) and then Eren speaks again. “I’m not answering that. But other than the scaredy cat Jean Kirstein how did it go— _ow fuck!_ ”

“What? What did you do now?” Jean knows his voice is a little too apathetic, but it’s almost two in the morning and his self-esteem is running low. Eren doesn’t answer, and ice crawls from Jean’s stomach and up to his chest. “Eren?”

“Jean, don’t think I’m a shitty friend, but in one month you _cannot under any circumstances go after that umbrella or I will end you._ Do you hear me?”

“What?”

“The umbrella. I can’t say, but—,” he chokes, and Jean thinks for a second that he’s crying. “That umbrella isn’t fucking worth you blockhead, okay?”

“O-kay."

Eren is quiet again, and then he laughs. “I’m going to bed, Kirstein. I’ll see you at the engagement party, yes?”

“Yeah,” Jean tries not to sound disappointed, but he can’t help it. “Goodnight.”

“Night."

When Jean goes to shut off all the lights before heading back to bed, he finds his umbrella by the front door. He wouldn’t admit it, but the next morning he throws it in the trash on his way to work.

He’s not saying Eren’s right, but you can’t risk these things, you see.


End file.
